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MY POETRY HOME — trespassers welcome
(Sunday, June 20, 1999) Yes, I stand and read in the blazing sun,
but perish the sun!
Damn the wanton glare of her searing heat!
Her discomfort compares not with the ague of
my nerves as this dreadful hour draws near!
Right now, like a heavy raw hide
slumping on buckling stakes,
a griping disease hangs in
the air above my sweating head.
Right now, like the furious thrust
of blunt pestles in the hands of
angry housewives pounding badly cooked yams,
my troubled heart rams against my sweating ribs.
The hour draws near!
My doctor had ordered seven hours of unhalted sleep
every blessed day, but God! For the past six weeks
I have been doing only some forty winks of REM sleep.
And now my eyes are barren of their crystal lusture;
caffeinated liquids course through my upset nerves,
yet I still stand in the sun to browse, perhaps I might
be able to grasp the last possible point before the roll is
called for this dreadful exam to begin.
© 1999, M-Auwal Gene III. All Rights Reserved
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